Wednesday, November 30, 2011

I am right now, at the onset of this project, stating my goal to surpass WALK A PLANT DAY as the number one Google result for the search term "31 Holi-Days" (and no, Google, I do not mean "31 Holidays") by the time 2012 arrives.

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Well, at least some of the time, and that's
what this new, daily feature here on Turned
on Its Ear will be taking a look at beginning tomorrow, December 1st.
I've always been of two minds about the holidays: on the one hand, I'm a
true sucker for friends, family, food and presents, and the absolute magic that
you can smell on the Manhattan air this time of year. On the other hand, I'm just as big a fan of
the irreverent and the absurd in December as I am throughout the rest of the
year. Accordingly, this series should be
all over the place in a good way: expect to unwrap as many Hallmark moments as
Nelson Muntz-style point-and-laughs, as well as some posts that have a nice
mixture of both.

The series will also be completely free-form. Posts will likely range from photos with
one-line captions on the spartan end of the spectrum to lengthy stories/rants
on the more verbose side of things. It's
my Christmas (Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, substitute as appropriate) gift to
you all, dear readers: new content every day from now until 2012. It's also part of my celebration of the
spirit of the season...

Sunday, November 27, 2011

The Santa Clause is a bad movie starring that guy from Home Improvement. Father Christmas spells his name just like the singer from the Scorpions, except with a "C" instead of a "K" at the beginning. In case that's too many links for your fevered heads to handle, Kris Kringle's alias is spelled CLAUS. No "e". Thank you for playing.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Seriously, how many of you ever asked Santa for a terrible idea for Christmas? If you need me, I'll be the guy hiding in the kitchen, trying desperately to puncture my eardrums with the turkey baster. Especially if I have to hear it in any sort of proximity to that Kohl's/Rebecca Black commercial. (Link provided for evidence only - do not click on it if you value life at all.)

The picture's not great, since I had to grab it and run, but this is a stack of Borders distribution boxes, all sealed up with that company's famous security tape ("stop tape" in the parlance of the stockroom), being delivered to a random little store at the top of my block around mid-day today. That's kind of strange, right? Where did they come from, nearly two months after Borders honored its final coupon? What sort of dregs and detritus could possibly be in them? Why are they being delivered to an image printing/blueprinting store? I swear there's a mystery novel waiting to be written from this photo, were someone so inclined.

Also in this photo: my thumb, in the upper-left corner. I will find a way to blame that on my mentally deficient phone, and edit this post accordingly. Maybe after dinner.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Man, this guy is a barrel of laughs. "You're doing God's work. Let me kick the devil out of the details for you" had me snickering, and the stuff about The Muppets and the bit about paying in stolen rolled quarters towards the end nearly had me off my chair in hysterics. If I needed something looked over, he'd be the first email I sent out...

,,,although, admittedly, I'd be emailing myself. Yeah, folks, sorry 'bout that: this post is nothing but a shameless plug for the home proofreading business I'm trying to get off the ground. I wasn't kidding about being sick of all these go-nowhere job applications, and I've been threatening to get something like this going for some time now.

I wish I could offer Turned on Its Ear readers some sort of discount, but honestly I'm already doing this as cheap as possible just to get things rolling. Mention this blog and you'll get pushed to the top of the pile, though: that I can offer/promise you.

Anyway, tell your friends, tell your enemies, tell your dumb boss by way of passively insulting him or her. Oh, and if you wanted to flag it for "best-of Craigslist" and get it seen by discerning stoners everywhere, that'd be heartily appreciated.

Because, hey: nothing says CHEER like a good "Cemetary" Piece! (Or, for that matter, maybe even a Cemetery Piece. Seriously, folks: hire a proofreader. Preferably me.) It's the perfect thing for when a re-gifted fruitcake isn't quite middle-finger enough.

Speaking of Christmas miracles, could it be that my not-so-smart phone actually managed to take a decent, in-focus, text-legible photo? Hallelujah! It's not enough to get me to renege on my stated intention to become a big old hypocrite and get an iPhone once this job stuff is settled, but still: credit where due.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Are you looking for a
way to feel demoralized, disheartened and just plain depressed? Is this your time to feel like nothing more
than another sheep in the flock? Have you
always dreamed of going to sleep feeling like you've been digging ditches for
the past twelve hours AND ALSO feeling like you've accomplished less than
nothing? Think that paychecks are for
suckers? Then the fast-paced world of
job searching in a bad economy may be just what you've been looking for!

A bit over the top?
Probably, but damned if job hunting isn't worse than even the worst job
I've ever had in my life. I'm sick to
death of online applications, résuméscanning software, Craigslist, "work-from-home
opportunities", going to a place of business to check on my application
only to end up in the "oh, did you fill out an online application
yet?" endless loop, et cetera.
Don't even get me started on the psychological profile part of the
online applications: I am not a thief, I have well-developed people skills, I
am equally comfortable working solo and as part of a group, I've got whatever
you're calling "leadership potential" this week, I promise to keep my
emotional meltdowns at home, and I don't think that it's "mostly
alright" to steal office supplies. There
you have it: it is possible to sum
all of that up in a single run-on sentence instead of a 150 question quiz. Who woulda thunk it?

I am tired of the endless babble parade of résuméspeak. Really, is anybody going to say "I'm not
very dynamic, and I only intend to do the minimum possible to keep my lazy keister
out of the unemployment office"?
Not hardly: we are all team players, looking to enjoy the challenge of a
fast-paced work environment where there are no problems, only opportunities. So, for the next however-long this takes me
to write, allow me to do away with it.
In real-world terms, this is who I am:

I'm completely
dependable. I don't care if I have
to take three buses, a train, and a carrier pigeon to get in to work. If I tell
you that I'm going to be there, I will.

I have excellent time
management and planning skills. I'm
happiest going into a project with a good idea of what really needs to be done,
how long it is going to take, and whether or not I'll need help.

I'm also living in
reality, and realize that flexibility is a must. The great thing about plans is that you
can always make more of them anytime the weather forecast calls for the sky to
fall within the next hour or so.

I write real
good-like. Do you think they give
these blogs out to just anybody? Seriously,
though: I know when to use your and
when to use you're, I can write a
great business letter, and I promise that yours will never be the business with "FOWARD" painted in large
letters on your window with me on your staff.

Computers are no
problem. I'm sharp with most of your
common office software, but I'm not going to lie and tell you that I know
everything about every application on your desktop. I can assure you that I've rarely met a bit
of software I couldn't tame given a small amount of time to figure it out. Even PeopleSoft. I've also got an uncanny knack for fixing
printers.

I really do like learning new things. Sure, I know it sounds like résuméspeak, but I'm that guy
who wants to learn how to do it all. There
is nothing in the world wrong with saying "I don't know", provided
you then go and educate yourself.

I've got a knack for
working things out between co-workers. Regardless
of the job, I've generally found myself in the problem-solver's seat. I'm not the kind of problem-solver that moans
about it constantly, either ("oh, god, do I always have to fix everything?"). I find it gratifying to help things run
smoothly.

The bad news? No college degree. At least not yet, and I'm not comfortable
lying to you about it, either. I'm very
interested in finishing it off in the next few years, though. In fact, the only thing holding me back from
doing so is the need for a dependable source of half-decent income. It's a catch-22: need the decent job to
afford the schooling, need the schooling to get a decent job. Still, it's worth the leap of faith on your
part: think about how much money you can save in the interim by hiring a
college-quality guy who made a few questionable decisions a decade-plus back
when he was young, "brilliant" and invincible.

Look, I'm a smart, funny guy just dying to care deeply about
your store, office, publishing house, adult bookstore, political campaign, or
what have you. That's no lie, and it's
no résumé-speak, either: I do throw myself whole-heartedly into whatever I take
on. In no time flat, you will wonder how
you ever got along without me, and I will marvel at the idea that there was a
time before I knew you. I'm based just
outside of White Plains, New York, and I'd certainly consider commuting to New
York City for the right pay/opportunity/preferably both.

Thank you for your consideration.

(and thank you for
letting me blow off some steam. I feel
much better now...seriously.)

Friday, November 11, 2011

&amp;lt;p&amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;T&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;lt;/p&amp;gt;
Sorry, couldn't resist. We all need an attitude, indeed.

Seriously, though, if this day holds a particular magic for you, far be it from me to rain on your parade. If, on the other hand, you believe that tomorrow, the next day, and so on hold the same potential for magic as today, then you are well and truly on my wavelength.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Conrad Murray, Michael Jackson's doctor, has been found
guilty.This is a good thing, as I
believe that he is.Murray's primary
defense, the notion that Jackson injected himself with the lethal dose of
Propofol, never made much sense to me.Jackson hardly seemed like a prime candidate for suicide, at least not
in 2009.He liked the lights too much to
off himself, and the problem with post-mortem adulation is that it's difficult
to bask in once you've relocated to a pine box in the ground.Had Jackson died in the immediate wake of the
first round of child abuse allegations, I'd have thought that suicide was a
possibility.By 2009, Jackson was
looking for his comeback.Which he
ultimately got, of course, but I strongly doubt he was looking to dirt-nap
through it.

I'm sure Murray never meant to pull the plug on the King of
Pop.It was hardly in his best financial
interest to do so; after all, corpses no longer have much need for highly-paid
personal physicians.The picture painted
of him in Jackson's last hours by the prosecution is a chilling one: a man too
distracted by cell-phone calls to his various girlfriends to notice that the
most famous living human being on the planet was dying right in front of
him.How much of that is the result of
dramatic license is certainly open to conjecture.Only two people know the truth: the corpse,
who isn't giving out as many interviews as he used to, and the accused, who
clearly wouldn't think twice about bending the truth.Et
voila: the perfect villain.Jackson's family and many fans finally have someone to well and truly
blame for his death, and that will hopefully move them a good distance closer
to closure.

There is one other thing to consider here.Had Murray's negligence not killed Jackson,
I'd still have had a hard time imagining him making old bones.Jackson was destined to die of being Michael
Jackson, of being Elvis Presley, of being a guy whose fame took him so far past
the outer boundaries of any available map that there was simply no way
back.This doesn't absolve Murray, mind
you, who should absolutely have to pay the price for being at best a
quack.Were it not for those pesky abuse
allegations, Jackson would be a completely sympathetic figure, a guy who by all
accounts probably never lived a "normal" day in his life.A man who lived his entire adult life stuck
in childhood as the result of never having one of his own.You've all heard it all before.

But there are
those pesky abuse allegations, and they do
make Jackson's legacy more difficult than it otherwise would be for me.I've never been completely convinced of
Jackson's guilt; quite frankly, there were few celebrities riper for
blackmailing than the Most Famous Man In The World, especially given his
penchant for eccentric behavior.On the
other hand, I've never been one to jump on the MICHAEL WAS FRAMED bandwagon,
either: there was enough smoke surrounding him to suggest fire.The very fact that he felt it appropriate to
share his bed with pre-pubescent boys was creepy
as hell, even if he was not actually guilty of any untoward conduct.And then there was the petting zoo, and the
alleged Jesus Juice, and so on.Even if
all of Jackson's actions were completely on the level, anyone not blinded by
hero worship would have to admit that the whole scene looked a bit off.

So what, then, is
Jackson's legacy?For me, it's Off the Wall.That's a hell of an album, regardless of how
whacked in the head the guy on the cover may have been.I love the same Jackson 5 hits that everyone
else with a pulse loves, I admire Thriller
even if over-exposure has rendered much of it stale for me, and the rest is hit
and miss.As for the man himself,
perhaps he should be seen as a golden opportunity for us to instill in our
children a healthy understanding of the difference between the performance and
the performer, and how it's perfectly fine - healthy, even - to enjoy the
former while having your misgivings about the latter.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Honestly, I didn't have a good answer for him: "this
annoying chick who I've gotta tune out for a couple of minutes before The Soup comes on E!" didn't really
help him so much. Really, though, that's
about all I've got. Years ago, before Moonstruck established her as an actress
to be taken seriously, music critic Dave Marsh described Cher as being famous
for being, rather than doing. It's a
concept that applies nicely here.

Alright, I'll fess up.
I do know a bit more than that.
She's an annoying chick who got married ten weeks ago, and sensationally filed for divorce on Halloween. I'm aware
of that because the stupid hours-long special derived from the ill-fated wedding takes up nearly all of
the time on E! not already allocated to either The Soup, or Chelsea Handler and Joan Rivers appearing on different
shows as a sort of sunrise, sunset
version of the same mouthy, occasionally amusing-in-spite-of-herself
harpy. Quality programming over there -
although, seeing as they've now got some time to fill where that wedding
special used to live in their schedule, I'm no less talented than anyone I've
already mentioned in this piece save for Joel McHale, and I do need a job. Just sayin'.

Back to my point, if I indeed had one. Oh yeah: Kim Kardashian marries, divorces ten
weeks later, gossip and exaggerated moral panic ensue. I don't truly understand why people give a
damn in the first place about the personal lives of celebrities, even ones who
have careers that have actually amounted to something more than being.
Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, the Royal Family? Yeah, don't care, unless they're all so crazy
in love that they want to share it with the world and thusly agree to bankroll
my wedding. In that unlikely scenario,
sure, I'll at least send a thank-you card.
Otherwise, who can really be bothered with any of it?
Gossip-hounds, that's who, and maybe just normal, smart folks who need a
diversion as well. As I type these
words, my fiancée's People subscription
is calling me a curmudgeon. So be it.

The other half of this equation is the one that interests me
a bit more: the exaggerated moral panic.
It's demeaning to the concept of
marriage! No, no it's not. It's a drunken mistake at best, a calculated,
cynical publicity stunt at worst and likeliest.
It would be demeaning to the concept of marriage if you, o moral
crusader, as someone who firmly believes in its sanctity, married some bozo on
TV and then dumped the creep before the holidays. It would also be demeaning to the concept of
marriage if I, who am no moral crusader nor fan of religion but rather just a
guy who believes heartily in saying and doing what I mean in my heart, did the
same. These, however, are just dumb
people on television, no more real than Eric Cartman or Stewie Griffin no
matter how much the continuance of their "reality" shows depends on
them desperately attempting to convince you otherwise. If you dig the plot of what they're selling,
that's fine: a bit of mindless entertainment never hurt anyone, says the guy
with Bait Car playing on mute behind
him as he types this. Just remember that
the fantasy/reality line is your friend, and be grateful for those among your
family and friends who aren't mindless idiots, televised or otherwise.

So, Dad, I guess I can answer your question now: Kim
Kardashian is a bad actress. And,
speaking of calculated, cynical publicity stunts, she is now also a way for me
to get a bit of that Google random-hit love at a time when I'm looking to
transition my blog back to the 50/50 music/non-music ratio that I inadvertently got away from
somewhere around the time Charlie Sheen stopped self-destructing so
publicly. Thanks, Kim, you're a doll.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Goodnight now ladies
and gentlemen, goodnight now ladies and gents.
That's the end of the show, now it's time to go. Indeed: the albums have all been dissected,
the compilations all complained about, and the solo albums briefly remembered
and dismissed once again with a shrug.
What have I learned from it all, now that we've been there and
back? I've learned that, in the best
possible way, none of it really matters.

Let me explain that a bit: putting on the critic's hat is
fun. Explaining why Heaven Tonight is a better album than The Doctor probably doesn't really need to be done; after all,
anyone with functioning ears should be able to figure that much out for themselves. It's enjoyable - it must be, for me to have
indulged in it for the past five months - but it's also largely
unnecessary. Discussing why there are
times when the truly devoted among us might voluntarily choose to queue up
"Man-U-Lip-U-Lator" instead of "On Top of the World",
though: that's where the heart of this entire exercise lies. I've had several great email exchanges about
just that sort of thing with various readers over the course of this series,
and I'd like to pause here a moment to thank everyone who took the time to
check in. This may sound corny, but it's
100% true: great bands tend to attract great fans.

Fans, and fandom, have been the crux of this entire
series. It's important to remember that criticism is just a fancy word for a
resume or a by-line; if we are to call it what it is, the word we'd be looking
for is opinion. Case in point: one of the emails I received
was an impassioned plea that I re-evaluate Busted,
long my pick for the absolute nadir of the Cheap Trick catalog. The letter wasn't a "you jerk, how could
you" type of thing; instead, it was more of a "please don't deprive
yourself of..." sort of tone. I
went back and listened to it again, hopefully.
After all, what a great little dramatic turn that would have been: reader sets blogger straight! 'Twas not to be, alas: I still don't care
much for about 75% of that album. I am
glad, however, that this particular reader disagrees with me: I love Cheap
Trick, and I'd rather that their worst album be loved by someone than loathed
by all. To put it another way: I'm more
of a fan of the tightrope walkers, whereas this gentleman prefers the elephant show,
but we both really love the circus and, at the end of the day, that's what
counts. Criticism would only be truly
useful if the quality of music were quantifiable in some way; personally, I
thank god that it is not.

As for the future of Cheap Trick themselves, we'll see what
develops. There are some rumors: a
possible new album and a possible Cheap Trick museum to be established in
Chicago or Rockford lead the pack. There
are also some questions: will Bun E. ever return to touring, or has he left the
building for good? Will they ever be
inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame?
Will they ever bring the Dream
Police show anywhere even vaguely near New York? (Okay, so maybe that last one is only being
asked by me.)

Conjecture is fun, and it's great that myself and other
folks like me still care so much as to indulge in it. The truth of it all is much more simple than
any of that, actually: if it all ended tomorrow, if Cheap Trick announced their
retirement effective immediately, I'd be very sad. I'd also be left with hours of great music,
tons of irreplaceable memories, and the absolutely perfect soundtrack to the
last twenty-three years of my life.

T-Shirts now available! Sign of successful capitalist media saturation or total, utter irrelevance? You be the judge!

It is time to acknowledge the smelly, drum-beating elephant
in the room. On its non-music side, this
blog hasn't generally shied away from looking at New York-centric political
topics, and I'm very aware that its lack of any discussion at all of Occupy
Wall Street sticks out like a sore thumb as a result. Honestly, I'd been holding off until I formed
a real opinion of the protests; at this point, it's nearly two months into the
thing, and I still haven't shored up my thoughts on it. Since that's not likely to change, let us
instead spend a few minutes taking in the cognitive dissonance of it all, in a
nice, well-organized list format.

* Regardless of
anyone's personal opinion of OWS, it has a right to exist. A constitutional one, actually: the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances is a
phrase that should at least ring a bell for most Americans. Mayor Bloomberg needs to cease the vague
threats and generator confiscation. It's
hardly surprising that he seems threatened by OWS; in the parlance of the
thing, he is certainly the 1%, and it is his old buddies that are being
targeted by the protest. His instinct to
protect them is either laudable or despicable, depending on your
perspective. My vote is for
"both"; sorry folks, but the world is a confusing place like that
sometimes.

* There is no doubt
in my mind that there are sincere people camping out at Zuccotti Park. Hard-working, well-intentioned people who
are simply at the end of their rope with being un-/under-employed through no
real fault of their own have every right to be angry, and good on them for
taking it public rather than sobbing in their pillows. I'm job-searching myself at the moment. I'm not a dumb guy. I'm not afraid of hard work, I have plenty of
experience with a lot of different things, and I am a fast and eager
learner. I'm also over-qualified for
Nathan's, and under-qualified for the great, lofty corporate boardrooms. There are times where I end my job search for
the day with the thought that I'm only a severe distaste for camping out and
the smell of Patchouli away from grabbing a tent of my own and hangin' downtown
for a while. Bear in mind that I'm a guy
whose feelings on groups and movements are much more Groucho Marx than Woodstock
'69. People - myself very much included
- are frustrated and angry with where America's economic drift has landed them,
and they are right to be.

* There is no doubt
in my mind that there are plenty of jackasses who consider protest a viable
alternative to productivity camping out at Zuccotti Park. Hard to avoid it, sadly: wherever there
is protest, particularly a high-profile one, there will be a squadron of dorks who
never miss the opportunity to stick it to
the man, man and show up to protest whatever,
thusly avoid doing anything that might
actually help push us as a people towards a different, brighter future. You know the type: moccasins/sandals,
hackey-sack, really into the Dave Matthews Band and hemp. The media will always fixate on these
cretins, because it is far easier to present a cartoon than it is to deal with
anything of substance. All others
involved would be better served if these types would simply dry up and find
somewhere else to crash, but it ain't gonna happen in this lifetime,
unfortunately.

* Sorry fellow
progressives, but anarchy just doesn't work, and OWS is the ultimate
proof. We are approaching the two month
mark of the protest, and one of the most commonly cited responses to it is
"what, exactly, is their goal?"
That is a major failure for such a high-profile movement; it is unquestionably
a major squandering of potential. The
reason given for the lack of stated objectives generally goes something like
this: "We don't have a leader! We
are a group of diverse people, each with our own views and feelings!" That's great, but then what's the point,
exactly? Learn your history, folks: all
successful revolutions, not to mention successful corporations, involve an
articulate, charismatic, driven
leader - and you, OWS, will need one too
if you are really interested in actualizing the tremendous potential lying
stagnant in your ranks. The question,
then: are you? Or is this just a bunch pseudo-anarchist hot
air?

* No matter what its
follies and failures, OWS must be
addressed with substance by any serious 2012 presidential candidate. This is true of all of them, regardless
of party affiliation or ideology, but it is truest of Barack Obama. Mr. President: forget for a moment about the
cartoonish "professional protesters" and listen to the good, honest
people I spoke of above. These are the
people who voted for you. They are the
people who believed in your promises of change and reform. These same people now have a message for you
that could not be clearer: they no longer believe that you have the drive,
desire or ability to enact economic reform in a meaningful way. You must address them, and you must do so forcefully
for a change, through actions rather than rhetoric. Or, to put it in business terms, these are seriously
disgruntled customers, and yours is about to no longer be the only line of
products available.